Diablo

It crawls. It’s eyes glow with the radiance of the final burning embers of a midnight fire. It’s body is black-- black as new moon sky with no trace of shimmering stars. It’s scarlet eyes gleam brilliantly against it’s dark body, and it’s dark body contrasts against the white of the walls. It smiles wickedly with crooked teeth similar to large, oversized sewing needles. It’s feet produce long talons, reminiscent of it’s teeth. It crawls. It crawls from the left to the right and back again, relentlessly, with no end. I can’t do anything but watch it. I gave it a name, it’s name is Diablo.



Diablo is what brought me here. Diablo is what brought me to jump from my window and commit suicide. Only I didn’t die; I just broke my back and paralyzed my arms and legs. To make matters worse, they said I was to live here the remainder of my short and miserable life. Here in the asylum, in my own personal bed, surrounded by the bright white of the walls. Often, I wish I were blind instead of numb. I wish I didn’t have to regard the monstrosity before my eyes. Not only am I numb, my mind won’t influence my mouth to speak. I have words, so many words in my brain despite the fact that I can’t utter them. I had visitors and I had nurses that brought my pills to me as needed. I had doctors who attempted to unravel the mystery of why I wasn’t speaking and what drove me to suicide. I never spoke for them. I would only stare at what they thought was the wall.

It’s been nearly a year since my suicide attempt. It has been a year of questions that I can’t answer, even if my mind would let me. Everybody wonders what my eyes follow around the room. As the days wear on, Diablo gains new abilities. It can climb the wall and walk across the ceiling. Strangely, Diablo will never near my bed. It’s almost as if it is waiting. I just can’t bring myself to figure what it’s waiting for. I watch Diablo and think upon all of the iniquitous affairs of my life. Everything I should have done differently. I shouldn’t have cheated on my partner. I should’ve sought help when I came to the realization that I was a kleptomaniac. I shouldn’t have lied all of the times that I did, no matter who it would’ve hurt. I live in my own personal hell, of all my malevolent ideas and all of my remorseful reflections.

Periodically, my best friend will come to visit me. Her voice comforts my ailing mind and sometimes resuscitates me from Diablo. Today was different, though. It’s difficult to watch her frustration as she tries to understand what I gaze so blankly upon. She sat on the side of my bed and held my hand as she struggles to soothe my thoughts. All of my sins rush into my brain once more before I open my eyes and see Diablo crouched at the foot of my bed. I know that she notices the appalled expression of my face as Diablo smirks almost mischievously at me. It runs it’s tongue across it’s razor sharp fangs and grips the ancient metal of the bed frame with it’s claws. I can see my body vibrate with the rapid beats of my heart. Diablo continues to pull itself up onto the end of my mattress. I’m numb and I can’t move. The only thing I can feel are my eyes widening in fright. I can’t fight.

I hear my friend’s panicked calls. She calls my name and tells me to look at her. I can’t look at her. I can’t take my eyes away from Diablo. I watch Diablo creep up my disabled legs. My friend isn’t saying my name anymore, Diablo is. Diablo’s voice is deep and raspy. Diablo keeps calling my name. Between Diablo’s calls I can hear several of my doctors shrieking demands at each other. Diablo eventually repositions itself upon my chest and glares into my eyes with it’s two same neon red eyes. Everything around my bed moves in slow motion. Diablo finally opens its wide and gaping mouth and devours my face. As darkness consumes my sight, the last thing I heard was my doctor shout “Clear!”